


swan song

by vaguehope



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Crimson Flower, F/F, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Sad, with payoff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:27:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22795516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaguehope/pseuds/vaguehope
Summary: lysithea and annette reunite, somewhere they never wanted to.for day 12: "twilight" of fe femslash 2020! (very, very late.)
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic/Lysithea von Ordelia
Comments: 6
Kudos: 44
Collections: FE Femslash February 2020





	swan song

**Author's Note:**

> alternatively titled: "lysithea is a black eagle and there's nothing you can do about it".
> 
> set during war phase, crimson flower path, using information from azure moon regardless - spoilers abound. references annette and lysithea's support conversations, and has spoilers for various lysithea supports, especially with edelgard.
> 
> i am very sad. thank you for reading!

The wind tossing her hair back and forth, Lysithea braces herself against the oncoming onslaught. With the violent weather and the clashing of blades, the screams of soldiers in both red and blue – in all honesty, she could not see. Even with that being the case, the magical energy grows in her palm unfettered. No matter what was ahead, she couldn’t stop.

“Lysithea!” It is Ferdinand’s voice, as he rides out in front of her. “I will cover you!”

The soldier she had been about to take aim at falls to his lance, bloody – she catches her breath in mere moments, throwing her hands back to her hairpiece and using it to tie her knotted hair back. It isn’t pretty, but it works – giving her enough grasp of her surroundings to throw a ball of miasma at an archer that was aiming for Ferdinand’s head. “Appreciated! Watch your own back!”

With a raise of his hand, Ferdinand gives his thanks, before riding out into another clash – and with that, all room for conversation is over, and she is alone. Throwing blast after blast at the figures that surround her, she thinks of the reasons why. For a better future, for one where no one would be hurt the way she was again. For a world she could only dream of, if only…

There is no time to think, only for the sentiment to blaze in her eyes as determination. She would not fall here. She could not die yet. Blood splatters her face and her clothes. _I have to survive._ Flinging balls of flame out at anyone who dares come close, she ignores her own blood as it leaks from grazes and worse. She had something to believe in. If she were to stop, then—

Her raised hand hesitates, a spell mid-cast. The colour drains from her face.

She would not die, she would not stop – but in a moment, she is in a different place, a different time, one with a very, very different her.

_I’m not afraid_ – an insistence across darkened corridors. Sneaking treats back to her room under her uniform’s jacket, in the hopes no one would catch her. Pretences, secrets, words left unsaid. A cowardly girl trying to pretend she was anything but.

_Wait, I think I’ve got it._ The murmurs of a friend, her hair tickling the pages of the textbook. _If you look at the spell like this, you’ll find…_

She shakes her head, closing her eyes for an instant. The pause could mean death, but she has to know – know if it’s in her head, know if she’s finally been damaged irrevocably by the bloodshed. But when death doesn’t come, when no one takes advantage of the opening, she knows the truth. A blessing and a curse, an unfortunate miracle. Someone she had thought she would never see again.

She opens her eyes, gazing sadly at the woman in front of her. “Annette.”

She had grown beautiful, her childhood sweetheart – a pretty, mature face with the same bright eyes she remembered. As much as Lysithea wished to see those eyes light up with that radiant smile, her chest aches at the grief she sees in them, at the situation they were both in.

Annette was too soft-hearted. She always had been. Even if Lysithea was only pretending not to be.

The flame in her hand had fizzled out, without her meaning it to – but she doesn’t conjure it back up. “I’m sorry. That we had to meet like this.”

“Lysithea...”

“Don’t! Don’t… make this any harder than it already is. I don’t want to have regrets.”

“Stop! You’re already talking like we’re going to fight…!” Annette’s voice scales above the clashing of blades, the notes of hysteria making Lysithea wince. “We’re not going to fight… are we? I don’t want to fight you…!”

“And I don’t want to fight _you!_ Do you think I imagined this?!”

“No… no.” Annette holds a hand up to her face, pressing it against her forehead as it contorts. “I can’t…”

“Anne—”

_“Please!”_

The world goes quiet. The battle doesn’t end, but the sounds around them grow fainter, enveloping them in a blanket of blood and steel. Lysithea watches Annette, until her eyes refocus and she lifts her head, smiling weakly.

“I always wondered if we’d meet again. But not like this. I didn’t… even if I saw other old classmates on the battlefield, to see you…” Her fragile smile falters. “Why…? Even if House Ordelia supported the empire… going this far… I thought you vanished after the battle of Garreg Mach. Then, you…”

“Yes. I mean…” She averts her eyes. “It wasn’t that simple. There was a lot I didn’t know, and I was taking a chance. I’d seen… something.” Something that she couldn’t disclose – not on a battlefield, not surrounded by others, not anywhere where they weren’t alone. Something she shared with only one other person in the world. “But I don’t regret it. The more I fight… the more I know this is the right thing.”

“How can you talk like that…?!”

“Like _what?!_ ”

“This pain, this death– look at yourself, Lysithea– you’re… we’re both covered in blood. How could you stand it, being on her side…? If she hadn’t started this war, we might still be living in peace! We might have– _we might have…!_ ”

“There’s no point thinking like that! If you think nothing else would have happened, then… you’re wrong, Annette. Things were happening that none of us were aware of. Things that were hidden.”

Annette sniffs. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I can’t explain everything… not here.” Her heart skips. “Annette… I—”

“You can’t get through to me with that look…! Just stop it…!”

Lysithea’s shoulders sag, more at Annette’s crumpled face than anything else. “If you come back with me, just for one night… I can tell you everything.” Her fingers clutch at her clothes, squeezing tight. “None of us would force you to stay any longer. You’re… our friend.”

“Is this what friends are, now…? Trying to kill each other…?”

There’s nothing she can say to that. How she wished it wasn’t so, that they didn’t have to meet like this. “…I’m sorry, Annette…” She takes a breath, before taking careful steps towards her. “Come with me.”

“Come with you… you make it sound so easy.” But her voice is growing weaker, and her fingers trembling.

“No… no, I don’t mean it like that. I already betrayed my homeland. I left everything behind. I know how difficult that is, and so…” Her breath shakes. “That’s why I have to offer you a choice. We don’t have to do… what people think, just because we’re supposed to be enemies. We can understand each other. If I could talk to you… then maybe…”

What Lysithea is imagining – even she doesn’t know. A world with no war. A world where the blood that had been spilled between them could be ignored – a world where it had never happened, where they could forgive each other’s sins. Those kinds of things were illusions, impossibilities, wishes that couldn’t be granted: if she could talk to Annette, if Annette would listen… maybe they could still have a future together, as she imagined when they were kids.

She’d been awfully bold, back then. Taking Annette’s hand, kissing it as if she were a princess – making herself big and brave. There are no airs now, only a pleading girl that’s barely grown.

Annette is quiet. Her sobs lessen, the shaking in her shoulders growing a little less, tears still streaming down her face. “Lysithea, if it weren’t you… if I didn’t miss you so much… you wouldn’t be standing, right now. Do you know that…?”

“Yes.” She thinks to how many others she felled before now, the fire that had been in her eyes. “I know it too well.”

Annette watches her. Then, as if hurt, she turns away – the growing quiet between them heavy. If she’d had a rebuttal in mind, there was no incentive for it now. They were the same, after all. They didn’t want to fight.

“Will you… come with me, Annette? Just for tonight?”

It is a long shot. She doesn’t expect an answer, let alone a yes, while their allies kill each other on either side.

Annette breathes out, heavily. Then, raising her eyes to Lysithea’s – she closes the distance between them, holding her hand out to rest on hers, still clutched to her chest. “Please. Don’t ask me to make any more choices. Before I change my mind.”

It’s hardly a vindication, but she doesn’t expect one. Clasping Annette’s hand tight, she pulls her closer, pressing her head into her shoulder for the briefest moment. Underneath the dirt and blood, she can just about smell the flowers – the sweet perfume that Annette must use, different than five years ago, and yet somehow still nostalgic.

“Thank you. I’ll do everything I can… to protect you. I’ll warp us out. Are you okay with that?”

Annette nods, without a word. Not waiting for further confirmation, Lysithea waves a hand – holding tight onto Annette as they vanish into the air, away from the burning and the screams and the pain, into another kind of struggle.

In the aftermath of the battle, others begin to file back into the empty camp. Their footsteps, while weary, move with urgency – people calling out for white magic and medical supplies, the healers who stayed behind rushing to tend to the wounded. And amongst it, they sit on a pair of crates that do nothing to make them blend into the background.

Lysithea’s hand still on Annette’s back, Annette’s own hands having moved none, they sit intertwined until the feeling of being watched grows too strong. Lysithea opens her eyes, peering over Annette’s shoulder into Edelgard’s face – dirt covered, smudged with blood, and as understanding as it had always been.

“She is not an enemy.”

“I know.” Edelgard pauses, noticing the tension in Annette’s body, her own fingers digging into her palm at the sight. “If she decides to stay, then let her know she’s welcome. If not… she is free to leave. I’ll make sure no one stops her.”

Lysithea nods, her hand squeezing Annette’s. “Thank you.”

A small smile – grim, but with a softness underneath it – surfaces on Edelgard’s face. “Don’t push yourself, Lysithea. Remember to get your wounds treated as soon as possible.”

Another nod, and the emperor walks away, disappearing into the crowd to those who needed her most. As her footsteps mingle into those of the others, indistinguishable, Annette begins to sob. “I don’t understand. Lysithea… I don’t understand.”

“Tell me,” she murmurs, her voice soft. “Tell me everything.”

Edelgard is a tyrant. Not only for sending Fódlan into chaos, but also, it seems, for being responsible for the massacre of Duscur in her youth. Those were the words of the prince, and Annette, as much as she had respected Edelgard in their school days, found the arguments piling up – the words, the rhetoric, the venom – hard to dispel.

“There is something wrong with Dimitri,” she manages through her sobs. “I think we all see it. He’s a kind person, like he always has been, but… when Edelgard is involved, that person disappears. But he’s our leader. The only remaining member of the royal family. We all have hope in him. If he thinks resisting is right – if it ends in our victory… then Faerghus can be restored. From the terrors of our past, from the doubts of others…”

She sniffles, wiping her tears away, finally looking to meet Lysithea’s eyes. “We are nobility that serve the royal family. My father… he would never leave Dimitri again. And without me, Mother would be all alone. A family like us, abandoning Faerghus… no one would forgive that. How could I ever convince her… even to listen to me?

“You… can’t. There’s a reason I came alone. You can’t tell anyone to do that for you.” Annette’s gaze becomes pained, making Lysithea look away, at anything else. “I don’t mean to convince you to stay. I just… wanted you to hear our side.”

There’s something else – something unsaid. If Annette senses it, she doesn’t bring it up. Her words are quiet. “I’d wondered what Edelgard really wanted. Why she attacked like that. If you joined them, then… there must be something. Some sense in her goals.”

“Something like that. Edelgard… gave me hope.”

“What do you mean…?”

The passing soldiers have thinned out a little, but it is still too busy – far too busy for this. Sitting up a little straighter, avoiding Annette’s gaze – she holds out her hand. “If you come to my tent, then I can show you.”

Once they get through the doors of her tent, she lets go of Annette’s hand. Annette stands awkwardly by the door, playing with her fingers as she looks anywhere but at Lysithea. The room, to her credit, was exactly as Annette would have expected of her. It was obviously temporary, but it was neat and tidy, a small pile of belongings on a seat in the corner, blankets made, lanterns to light.

She lights one, before seeming to pause herself. Annette couldn’t know this, but there was a lump in her throat. That old, frightening feeling – of being young, of being grabbed by strangers, the cold gaze of adults – it overtakes her, and for a moment she has to focus on her breathing.

“Lysithea…?”

If Annette had ever doubted Lysithea’s intentions, all her apprehension would have disappeared seeing the shaking of her shoulders. “Just give me a moment!” Lysithea snaps, harsher than intended. Her breath shakes, loud in the tent. “It’ll pass. Just give me… some time.”

Annette nods. Lysithea doesn’t turn, focusing on her breathing, until she trusts herself not to embarrass herself any further. Her knuckles are white, as she cautiously turns her head to face Annette. “I… guess I should tell you what I meant.” The words, though, the words refuse to leave her lips. “Are you… afraid?”

“You _are_ scaring me. Are you okay…?”

She smiles, at that – eyes falling downwards. She can trust Annette. No matter what, she would keep her secret. “No. I’m going to show you something. I’m sorry if it’s a… surprise.”

Her hands move to the clasps holding her shawl into place, moving the purple fabric away. She brushes her hair forward over her shoulders, revealing her upper back, and waits.

She closes her eyes.

“Ly… Lysithea…?” Annette’s voice is weak. She shouldn’t have put this on her so suddenly. She shouldn’t have burdened her with her old fear, the shadows that she tried so hard to hide. Hearing Annette’s footsteps moving closer, Lysithea tenses, hunching forwards as if to protect herself, hugging her shawl to her chest.

“There were people who… did this to me. When I was a child.” She exhales, the breath a heavy weight. “When we were younger, I think you said… that I was fundamentally different than you. I had a natural ability that you couldn’t match. If having two crests was natural, then – then.” Her throat seizes up. “I would have had a very different life.”

Annette lays a hand on her shoulder – before lifting it away as Lysithea flinches. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I don’t… I don’t understand.”

“I know.”

“No, not like… not like that. I don’t understand… why anyone would do this.”

“Power. And only the Goddess knows what else.” She breathes out, gaze falling to the floor. “There’s only so much that’s my right to tell you. But you should know this. If this world wasn’t so obsessed with crests, with power, with gods… then no one would have had to endure this. It doesn’t have to be this way.” She smiles weakly, turning her head slightly in Annette’s direction. “Edelgard taught me that. If you want to know more, from her own mouth… I know she would give you audience, even if you weren’t sure if you would stay. But she’s the only person who could ever spare a thought for people like me. She’s the only person who’s tried to change anything.”

This time, Annette’s hand is stretched out in front of her, asking. Any other time, Lysithea would have scolded her hesitation, swearing that she doesn’t _need_ to be coddled. But like this, laid bare, barer than with anyone else – she is grateful for it.

She nudges her hand slightly towards her, and Annette squeezes it. As Annette speaks, Lysithea finds herself crying. “Thank you for trusting me. I’m sorry I didn’t know. I’m sorry, for everything I said.”

“You don’t have to apologise. In the end… you helped me more than I can say. You don’t know how much I wanted to prove myself with hard work, over anything else.”

A silence falls over the tent, as Lysithea slowly begins to relax. As a child, she had always been afraid to show anyone her scars – especially the girl that she liked. For it to have happened, for her to have accepted them, even if the outcome of this meeting was uncertain… it filled her with relief.

She shuffles a little closer to Annette, and when she doesn’t move away, lays her head on her shoulder. “It doesn’t matter what you decide. I’m glad I got to talk to you like this. When I was younger, I had all sorts of silly daydreams. Of course, Edelgard gave me hope… for a future where I existed. But you… I hadn’t dared imagine there could be anything in it. Until you.” She smiles. “Maybe in a world where we were born in the same country, or where conflicts didn’t have to be settled with swords… I could have lived with you.”

“What are you talking about? Like it couldn’t still happen…” Annette pauses, trying to think of the words. “I can’t promise anything. I don’t know if there are any profound realisations I can give you. I’m just… little old me.” Annette squeezes her hand, pressing Lysithea against her. “But I want to help you. I would like to be with you, a little longer… if I can.”

“You… would?”

“Yes. Maybe.” She laughs softly, a pain in its notes that Lysithea hadn’t heard before. “Yes. I would.”

When the sun rises high enough to light the path, Annette and Lysithea stand by the horses as one is being saddled up. The stable boy’s motions seem slow and fast at once, both refusing them their time alone and ushering in their time apart. They hadn’t seen Edelgard again, busy as she was even at this early hour, but Lysithea would pull her aside after the morning meeting to explain. What might happen, and what might not.

“We’re based at Garreg Mach. We’ll be returning there as soon as possible, so… if you do decide to return, you know where to find us. If you come alone, I can guarantee your safety. The guards will watch out for you. I’ll make sure everyone knows… the possibility.”

“Yes.” She pauses. “Then where will I find you?”

Lysithea stops, a little surprised. Then she glances away, holding her hand up to her face. “Well, I use the same quarters as I did when I was a student, out of habit. Other than that, you… know me. I’ll be at the training grounds, or in the library.”

“The library.” Annette smiles. “I’d like to go there with you again.” A cloud passes over her eyes, before she turns to the newly saddled horse, her lips now pressed into a firm line. Placing her hand on the horse’s neck, she climbs onto it, patting its mane gently as she settles on its back. “I can’t promise anything, but Lysithea… thank you. You know. For everything.”

“I haven’t done anything.” There was so much more she wanted to do – so much that was beyond her. “But you, as well. No matter what happens, I’m glad we had this.”

Annette nods. She holds her hand out, and Lysithea clasps it – squeezing hard, as if she could burn the warmth into her memory – before Annette’s hair tickles her cheeks, and her lips meet hers.

It’s a brief kiss, but it holds more than any words could. Annette straightens up, her eyes fixed on her, more emotions than Lysithea could recognise mixed within them. She clasps the reins of her horse. “I’ll…” She takes a breath. “I’ll be seeing you.”

As the sun rises, Lysithea walks out into the edge of camp, watching the lone horse and its rider disappear against the horizon. Despite an overwhelming urge to cry, she feels stronger. Stronger than she has in a long time.

Despite what she said, she finds herself spending less time in the confines of the monastery walls following Annette’s departure. The library had no windows, and the training grounds no vantage point – standing atop the outer walls, facing Faerghus, she passes the weeks between battles with a book in her hands and her eyes on the horizon. Waiting for a lone figure, heading in her direction.

Annette. Her childhood sweetheart, her imagined future. Her strength.

“Lysithea.” A voice wakes her, the sun fallen into a twilight. Her book is on the floor. She slept again. If she kept this up, she would catch a chill – as if her lifespan wasn’t already short enough.

Her eyes drift to the person shaking her shoulder, slowly regaining awareness. “Edelgard?” Not any of the lookouts, somehow, for some reason. “What brings you here?”

She smiles. It’s smile that contains a thousand words.

“She’s waiting for you.”


End file.
